


the best crash landings

by choomchoom



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Asteroid Surfing, Fluff, Gen, and the tiniest bit of angst for flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choomchoom/pseuds/choomchoom
Summary: In which Rodimus and Drift go asteroid surfing and no one's allowed to do dangerous stunts alone.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	the best crash landings

**Author's Note:**

> For Auri who asked for happy driftrod as part of the driftrod holiday exchange! Hope you enjoy!

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that! No, ah, not so fast!” Rodimus winces as he watches Drift speed away from him on the asteroid surfing board. 

He sags with relief when Drift uses the brake mechanism on the board to slow it down and turn back toward Rodimus. He comes to a stop hovering in midair and balances like that for an impressive three seconds before hopping down onto the asteroid where Rodimus had been waiting. Rodimus has to squash the urge to grab him, to ensure that he stays close and safe. 

“I don’t think I was even going fast enough to make that jump,” Drift says, looking out at the large asteroid he’d been speeding towards. He’d been hoping to use the gravitational force around it to boost his momentum enough to hop over it. 

“It was too fast! If you lost control, you wouldn’t be able to stop. You could fall and get hurt.”

“Okay, how do I make sure I stay in control?”

“Here, watch,” Rodimus says, not knowing how to explain it. He gestures for the board and Drift kicks it over to him. He hops on and speeds away, taking the smoothest route toward the jump and gaining just enough momentum to leap over the asteroid. He comes back around in a wide arc toward Drift, who’s frowning. 

“That was exactly what I just did but faster,” Drift says as soon as Rodimus hops down from the board. 

“No it wasn’t!” When Drift had done it, something had been off. Rodimus can’t quite describe it. 

Drift rolls his optics, a terrible habit Rodimus is pretty sure he picked up from Ratchet. “Okay, then let me try again.” 

Rodimus kicks the board over to him, a little uneasy. Drift steps up and kickstarts it, taking approximately the same arc toward the jump. He speeds up, adjusting his posture for the jump, and panic seizes Rodimus. 

“No! Stop! Get back here.” 

Rodimus can see Drift rolling his optics, even though Drift is halfway across an asteroid field and he’s looking at the back of Drift’s head. Drift brakes, though, and turns the board back toward Rodimus. “What was wrong that time?” he asks, hopping lightly down onto their home base asteroid. 

Rodimus hesitates. There wasn’t actually anything wrong with Drift’s form, or speed, or angle of approach. What’s wrong is that he’s out here in the first place, trying to do a stunt dangerous enough to hurt him with only _Rodimus_ to provide instructions. Yes, yes, technically this was Rodimus’s idea in the first place, but - when Drift is out there, Rodimus can’t help but remember the way Drift’s spark had flickered after he’d stabbed his sword through it; the way Drift had stumbled out of the shuttle back from Delphi, still barely able to walk. “You could get hurt,” he says. “That’s not allowed. It’s a new rule. I’m having Ultra Magnus write it down as soon as we get back to the ship.” 

“Write it down where? There aren’t any other rules,” Drift says. Then, “Never mind that. You can’t order me not to get hurt.” 

“Of course I can. I’m the captain.” 

Rodimus assumes that Drift is about to argue more - which would be annoying, even though Rodimus knows he’s being ridiculous - but instead Drift just smiles, really smiles in that way Rodimus never saw before the Lost Light, the way that seems to soften his whole frame and softens something in Rodimus, too. “Okay. If you don’t want me to asteroid surf the way you do, how do you want me to do it?”

Rodimus takes a moment to thank Primus and any other gods that may have been involved in bringing Drift into his life. He isn’t used to people listening to him when it matters, readily following his whims even when they don’t make objective sense. It feels magical every time. “Like you’re Rung, on his little scooter,” he answers. 

Drift pushes the board toward Rodimus. “Why don’t you show me?”

Rodimus climbs up, trying to figure out how to play this to make Drift laugh or maybe even smile again, but his thoughts stall when Drift, easy as anything, climbs onto the board in front of him, tucking his feet near Rodimus’s. Rodimus automatically shifts back a little to distribute their weight evenly and puts his hands on Drift’s hips to keep the board from hobbling as he does it. 

“This okay?” Drift asks, tucked against Rodimus, both of them making the same microadjustments to keep their balance. 

“Yes,” Rodimus says, close to Drift’s audial, and he sees the barest edge of a smile on the side of Drift’s face. Drift is warm and so alive against him, and Rodimus feels like he could do anything, like this. He kicks off, sending the board out into the asteroid field proper, and Drift’s smile widens into an excited grin. 

He really does steer them as if he’s Rung trying to set a Lost Light Insider record for slowest travel on wheels. The slow, easy arc they take around the asteroid field is still one of the most exhilarating rides of Rodimus’s life, just for the way Drift shifts against him, their frames touching in so many places Rodimus can’t keep track of them all, from the way he can feel Drift’s tiny adjustments to keep the board from wobbling. By three-quarters of the way around the loop, Rodimus has admitted to himself that Drift definitely has the knack to be great at asteroid surfing, and is _considering_ letting him try the jump again. 

When there’s only one asteroid left between them and the big flat one they’ve been using as a base, Drift tries to go left, Rodimus tries to go right, and they slam hard into each other in an attempt to course-correct. The board goes into a dive. Drift grabs hold of one of Rodimus’s flailing arms, and he’s so decisive about it that Rodimus gives up struggling and trusts him, letting himself and the board be directed into a controlled crash on the flat asteroid. Rodimus lands mostly on top of Drift and loses track of the board, too focused on making sure that Drift’s hand is still secure in his as they roll. Soon enough they stop, Drift now mostly on top of Rodimus, dented and grinning. 

Rodimus starts to laugh and Drift joins him, tucking his helm into the crook of Rodimus’s neck for one beautiful moment. Rodimus hasn’t released Drift’s hand, and Drift is still holding on just as tight. 

“I think we lost the board,” Drift says when they’ve both calmed down a little, lifting his head to scan the rest of the asteroid but making no other move to get off of Rodimus. 

“Good riddance. Asteroid surfing is dangerous, and terrible,” Rodimus says, heroically stifling a pout. Then he perks up. “Hey, I bet if I transform, drive off this asteroid and then transform again in midair, I can get to that next asteroid on the left, use it to do a flip, and -” 

“No!” Drift practically shouts, completely serious even though Rodimus had been (mostly) joking. Rodimus’s surprise must show on his face, because when Drift repeats himself he’s quieter, still serious but in a different way. “No. If I’m not allowed to get hurt then neither are you.” 

Rodimus sighs and shushes the part of his mind that’s still insisting that he _could_ (probably) do the stunt he’d been imagining. He lays his head back on the surface of the asteroid and looks up at Drift. His helm is framed by distant stars that remind Rodimus how lucky he is to have Drift’s bright optics and brighter smile so close. “Fine,” he says, no longer even annoyed about it. He can see why Drift softened so easily when Rodimus had insisted on not letting him jump the board. There’s certainly something to be said for the thrill of being airborne with only a plank of metal, his balance, and finicky gravity between him and the void of space, but it’s also nice to be loved. 


End file.
